


Wounded Warriors

by Shatterpath



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chance Meetings, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one who sees war is ever the same. But together, they can be strong enough to overcome and be part of mundane life once more.</p>
<p>A chance encounter of kindred souls. They always seem to find one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounded Warriors

**Author's Note:**

> As I was concerned about doing justice to the traumas of our veterans, both young and old, that have survived, I skirted the issue a bit out of respect.

As raw as he ever was after attending a support meeting, Steve Rogers stood in the warm sunshine and scrubbed rough hands over his bearded face before raising closed eyes to the sun. He had needed the reminder that he was not weak for surviving, that he was more than the war and combat that had so redefined him. He had needed the reminder that the screams and explosions and haunted eyes that plagued his mind were not the only memories that he had. He had needed the reminder that there were ways to go on, to not just give in to the darkness.

Finally, he could take a breath, a deep, chest-expanding inhale of the dry, warm air that was as much ocean as desert.

"You know, I think I like your technique better."

Startled, Steve looked over at the sound of the smoky woman's voice, rich with a smooth English accent. She was as gorgeous as her voice, her stance a jarring mix of prideful, stiff-stance formality and crippling debilitation. As if the crutch supporting her clearly prosthetic leg wasn't a dead giveaway.

"Technique?" he repeated somewhat lamely, just another brilliant start in talking with a woman. But she only quirked a half-smile and waggled the unlit cigarette in her fingers in his direction.

"Enjoying the fresh air instead of relying on these damn things."

"Well, it's L.A. air, so how much better can it be?"

That actually earned him a huff of some small amusement. Pleased, Steve was at a loss of what to say or do, so gave himself back to the temptation of the peaceful afternoon and turned his closed eyes to the sky again. While curious as hell about the beautiful stranger at the edge of his perceptions, he kept to himself, relishing the quietude and the sense of peace fallen over him after a tough day of once more wrestling his demons.

Then the moment was slipping away, the quiet edging at awkward and Steve took the route that felt safest. But his retreat would not be a panicked one that would leave him kicking himself later.

Well, he might kick himself anyway.

Inhaling deeply in subtle warning he was about to interrupt their mutual quiet, Steve shook himself out and turned a small smile to the woman, still standing there with her unlit cigarette.

"I hope you have a good day," he said softly, really meaning it, before nodding and walking away. He hadn't gotten more than a few steps before that memorable voice called after him.

"You might be the first man of the uniform, before or after, that hasn't a single question. Remarkable."

"It's because I don't know how to talk to women."

To his delight, she startled and then burst out into laughter. The rich wave of sound warmed him, eased her stiff body language from crown to toes. That full smile, all teeth and pleasure, was like a jolt of energy to the spine and Steve felt quite electrocuted. 

"You are strangely charming, stranger."

Shrugging self-depreciatingly, Steve once more would have retreated and was once more held back by her magnetic voice.

"You're Sam's friend, yes?"

Then it clicked.

"Of course, you're Peggy Carter, aren't you? He's been going on about you for weeks."

Stepping back over to her, Steve didn't miss a beat offering his left hand instead of right, enjoying the warm strength of her grip.

"I am, yes. So you are Steve Rogers then?"

"Yep. Listen, I don't know about you, but spilling my guts makes me hungry as hell and there's a bakery and deli a couple blocks from here that has good enough food to be from my hometown."

"Sure. Lead the way."

And somehow, the afternoon had become a new sort of beginning.


End file.
